


like shimmering coral

by Skyebyrd



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Genderbending, Mermaid!Harry, Mermaids, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: Harry has never been on land. She finds a pearl necklace that gives her legs.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28
Collections: Accessory Fest 2020





	like shimmering coral

**Author's Note:**

> i loved writing this so much! i've found a real love for writing fairy tales, and i loved creating the lore for this piece. the word count limit was a good exercise bc i always ramble when i write and this forced me to focus on what was important and what wasn't. i think this is going to be the last 1D fic i write, which makes me sad, but i'm happy to end on such a high note! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did.

Harry always loved the idea of the sun. It warmed the upper layers of the water, up where it gets all blue and shiny and turquoise like her favorite rings that she’d found once upon a time in a little box under an anemone. She’d found it in her search for her prize, the one thing she would connect with above all other objects; what she would put her very essence, her magic inside of. Of course, the rings hadn’t done the job, hadn’t sparked in her stomach like it was supposed to. Nothing so far has.

There’s an ancient spell that allows any mermaid to walk on land. A mermaid must sing under the waxing crescent moon, holding her chosen piece inside of a giant clam’s mouth. If the clam doesn’t clamp its jaws around the mermaid’s arms, of course, she’s then free to put the jewelry on her body and swim to the surface. The only way the mermaid can turn back is if she herself removes her prize and returns to the sea; if anyone but her true soulmate takes her prize, she is cursed to become a fish, forevermore. 

But Harry is quite peculiar; she’s never found her prize. She’s older than a lot of her sisters, she’s been left beneath the waves for far too long and she yearns for sunlight, to feel a breeze through her hair, to feel grass between her toes. She’s heard so many stories of the shore and beyond, to high mountaintops and flat plainlands, of stones and dry sand with no water for miles around. She wants to see it all. 

Harry sighs, bubbles leaving her mouth and floating up. During her thinking and dreaming, she hadn’t realised that she’d swum towards the pier. She could hear the voices of a few humans walking around above her and out on the beach, their laughter rounding out into strange echoes to her, warped by the water. It always sounds like music to her. 

The sun is so close, like this. It shimmers and dances along her tail, the color of coral, the shimmers in her scales dazzling like an oyster’s shell. She dances in the waves for a few minutes, happy to listen to the sounds of the humans above her. 

And then, like magic, there’s a splash from above and Harry hears the song she’s been longing to hear her entire life -- her prize, right in front of her. She doesn’t even hear the disappointing shouting from the woman who’d just lost it -- nothing beyond her prize is in her mind. 

It’s a beautiful pearl necklace, so white it dazzles even underwater. Harry swims over to it almost in a daze, focused on nothing but the gorgeous necklace in front of her. All of the pearls are perfectly symmetrical, even in size, and it’s like they’re alive--they buzz in her hand when she clutches them, ready for her magic to fill them up. 

She hurries off, swimming as fast as she can. She needs to hide this-the waxing crescent isn’t for another fortnight and she can’t afford for this beautiful, gorgeous piece to go missing, or stolen by a mischievous guppy looking for some fun. She steals into her small cave, piled high with her similar treasures that she’s accumulated over time. Her little turquoise rings, an earring with a singular pearl, a necklace with a golden moon...she’s almost a little sad that particular piece wasn’t her prize, but, well. She now has a gorgeous set of pearls to hang around her neck to let her walk on shore. 

And,  _ oh _ , the shore. She’s excited to feel dry sand, to feel the wind on her face, to get  _ legs _ . Her sisters have told her they take a little bit of practice but she doesn’t even care. She wants to run, to feel the muscles pulling and stretching and how different it must feel from her tail. Maybe she can even paint them to match the nails on her hands. 

She spends the next two weeks giddy; her sisters ask her what has her so excited but she doesn’t tell. They can probably guess, anyways, but it’s fun for her; a little secret to keep right in her chest. 

When the night finally,  _ finally _ , comes, she gathers her sisters around her very favorite giant clam. It’s mighty fluorescent jaws are opened wide and the moon shines down, light filtering gentle, slow, upon her pearls in its maw. She sings and it’s like her soul splits in two; incredible joy and anguish fill her body in equal parts, and her sisters heave her up above the waves as her gills retreat and her tail divides into legs for the first time.

It’s a lesson her body will never forget. 

They take her to the shore, taking care to put her necklace around her neck. They all climb onto the shore with her, their own prizes glowing, allowing them to transform at will. They’d made a present for her when they suspected Harry had found her prize; a beautiful dress, pink, with glitter and a sash around the waist. It looks so much like her tail that she bursts into tears at seeing it. 

Despite her exhaustion, she thanks them. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s seen, besides her pearls. 

Her sisters don’t dress her in the present, no; they dry her off quickly with a cloth and put her in something much more plain, so the gown won’t be ruined. 

They take her to a local inn; the innkeep recognizes the slightly wider, inhuman eyes of the mermaids and grants them a room in exchange for fair seas for her passage next month. Harry barely has the energy to marvel at the stone streets beneath her feet, or the wooden floors of the inn, or the candles, or the soft, luxurious bed, but marvel she does. She falls asleep so quickly and thinks  _ how could I possibly return to my cave after this? _

When she wakes in the morning, only one of her sisters remains. Sarah. 

“Good morning, Harry,” she says. Her hair is dry and Harry has a startling realization that, oh, her own hair must be too. She reaches up to touch it and is surprised to feel it’s texture, to realize that she has curls. 

“Good morning, Sarah.” Harry replies. “Oh,  _ morning _ ,” and she shoots out of bed, wobbling a bit over to the window to look outside of it and see the bright blue sky, and clouds. 

“Oh, Sarah, it’s so beautiful,” she sighs. Sarah giggles a bit at her antics but Harry knows it’s in love. Harry hears Sarah stand up and walk over and all she can think is, “the wood makes noise?”

Sarah laughs again and it’s such a joy to hear, out in the clear air. 

“Yes. Lots of things make all kinds of noise. Every day I spend on land I find something new that surprises me. I know you’ll love it here, Harry.”

Sarah guides her over to the chair by the washing bowl and shows her how to wash her face, her hands, her body. It’s sensual in a way it never was in the water and Harry can’t quite figure out why until, 

“This is your vagina,” Sarah murmurs, running some water over its folds. “I know we’ve told you about it before, but it’s very weird and will take some getting used to. You won’t experience a period like human women do, which is when they bleed once a month,” Harry’s heard the stories and is forever grateful for her egg sacs, kept safe and sound in her cave for when she’s ready for a mate, “but you can still experience pleasure.”

Sarah presses and,  _ oh _ . 

Harry clamps her legs shut and pushes Sarah’s hand away. 

“Maybe...maybe don’t do that,” Harry says, face red. Sarah just nods, getting a cloth and rubbing it over Harry’s legs. Harry would never tell anyone, but Sarah is her favorite.

“Once you wash yourself you’ll want to get dry again. Fabric doesn’t work well while wet and it can get very uncomfortable.” She then grabs a hairbrush and turns Harry around, to face the mirror full on. Harry stares at herself. She’s seen images of herself, of course; her vague reflections in scales, or in little mirrors or spoons that have fallen into the waters. But this is so...distinct. Almost uncomfortable. 

Harry stares at her body as Sarah brushes her hair. The way her breasts sit just so. Her shoulders, the long line of her arms. She turns her head down to gaze where the mirror cuts her body off, and sees her legs where she’s still half expecting to see a tail. 

Harry looks at the hair sitting in between her legs, trailing from the cut of her hips. It’s so...alien, yet familiar at the same time.

“There,” Sarah says, tilting her head back up. “Beautiful. Now I’ll show you how to dress yourself.”

It’s much more complicated than Harry could’ve imagined. Under the water, she’d had no need for clothes of any sort and it takes her a while to learn which piece is what, which thing goes where, what to tie and what to leave loose. 

Eventually, she’s in her dress. It’s the same plain dress she’d put on when she got on the shore, not the beautiful pink glimmery one that her sisters gifted her with the night before. 

“Humans wear plain clothes most of the time. They treat nice clothes like we do our troves.” 

Before they leave the room, Sarah turns to her and looks her dead in the eyes. 

“I know you already know this, Harry, and you know I love you. But I need to tell you again because sometimes I think you forget anything that doesn’t bring you immediate joy. And if anyone, and I mean anyone, but your true soulmate takes your prize away from you, you will be cursed to be a fish forevermore.”

Sarah takes her to the market in her plain blue dress, matching Sarah’s plain yellow one, and they wade in between all of the plain white dresses, and plain pink dresses, and plain brown and black dresses. 

There are suits, too, of course. Belts and buckles and shoes and hats and feathers. Harry wants to look at it all, so divine and beautiful. She accidentally bumps into someone in a suit and the texture of the fabric stays in her mind for a long time; she wants to have something like that for herself. 

“Everything here requires money, Harry,” Sarah says, fishing a coin out of her bag. She hands it over to a man by a cart and receives an apple for her payment. “Even food. Even water. Unless you can find it yourself and it doesn’t belong to someone else already, it requires money. We can find you a job, if you’d like, but most humans are happy to give us money in exchange for good seas, luck, and tidings. Sometimes they’ll ask us for more complex favors, but once you get a better grasp on your magic, you’ll be able to help with those, too.”

Harry nods, taking it all in. There’s a glint in the distance, through a window, and she moves to get a better look. She has to dodge a horse and, oh, they’re much bigger than she imagined and, oh, dear, she runs straight into a man with a huge sack of flour and it bursts open and then there’s people rushing towards the man to help, and then she’s having to run out of the way of a carriage, and then a merchant’s cart, and then--

Well. She doesn’t know where she is. 

“Sarah?” Harry calls out, small, nowhere near enough power to carry any sound further than directly in front of her. There’s not many people down this alley, but it’s not particularly frightening. 

“Are you lost?” A voice comes from behind her. Harry turns around to see a woman, her face mostly hidden behind a scarf, but her bright, bright blue eyes burning into Harry’s own. 

“A bit, yes. I don’t know where I am.” 

She smiles. She’s kind, so very, very kind; she introduces herself as Niall and takes Harry by the hand and takes her right back to Sarah in the square. Sarah has been joined by Charlotte and they both are overjoyed to see Harry returned to them. They were, Charlotte confesses, absolutely terrified that Harry had been purposefully taken from them. 

“Well, luckily for you, I’m just a little clumsy.” Harry jokes and they all hold each other close. 

Sarah notices Niall and thanks her profusely for returning Harry to them; Niall assures them all that it was her pleasure, really, but she does have one favor to ask. 

“What kind of favor?” Charlotte asks. “If it’s overly complicated, we may have to get our chieftess, but we’ll do our best to repay this great kindness.” 

“No, no, nothing like that…” Niall looks around and it’s at this moment that Harry realizes Niall is dressed much better than anyone around them. She’s plain, sure, but the fabric is the highest quality Harry has seen yet. “Perhaps we could speak more plainly elsewhere. Prying eyes, and all…”

Sarah nods, and leads them back to the inn. They head to Harry’s room and sit on the bed, all in a big circle, while Sarah brushes Harry’s hair for her. This kind of doting is a behaviour Harry’s used to, but, well. Harry is the favorite sister, she’s not ashamed to admit. All of her sisters have said so. 

“I am one of the Princess’ ladies-in-waiting. She has been asking for a mermaid to be in her court for a long time...not as a prize, but to help her understand the culture. More like an ambassador. She actually sent me into the town today to try and get in contact with one of you, to ask this. Is this something you could do?”

Harry immediately jumps up, overexcited at the prospect. 

“I would live in a castle?” She asks, spinning around, delighting in the wood beneath her bare feet all over again. She’s so giddy. 

She spins, and spins, and spins, right down the street and up the cobble streets and through winding wood paths through to the castle, and up into her new, thousand-pillowed bed, where she lands in a heap of giggles and ecstasy. 

She’s not the only person to occupy the room, of course; Niall had told her of the other two girls in the court, Liam and Zayn, that she was sharing a room with. Niall is the Princess’ hand-picked favorite and thus gets her own room, but Harry is more than happy to share a room if it means getting a room like this. 

The bed is ridiculously frilly and fluffy, sequins and satin and ribbons galore. The dressers and vanity tables around the room aren’t much better, either; there’s bottles of perfume and tubs of creams, glitters and mattes of any makeup Harry couldn’t have ever dared dream of existing. 

“Oh, hello. You must be Harry.” A girl says, walking into the room. She’s gorgeous, with dark skin and dark hair and amber eyes. “I’m Zayn.”

Harry’s playing with some ribbons, tying them all over herself; in her hair, around her arms and legs. 

“Hello, Zayn! These ribbons are so darling, aren’t they?” Harry loves the way they feel against her skin, just a little too tight. 

They get along like a school of fish. Zayn introduces Harry to Liam, later on, and the three of them meet Niall and they take Harry on a tour of the castle. 

“You’re going to love Princess Louis, Harry, I just know it.” Zayn says. “She’s a little wild but absolutely hilarious. She’s been dying to have a mermaid in her court for ages, too, to try and get the royal house more familiar with you and your sisters.”

“Maybe she’ll even throw a ball!” Liam gushes, voice tinged with excitement. “Oh, how romantic…”

Harry’s noticed that Liam finds a lot of things romantic. Luckily for her, Harry feels just the same about each and every thing she’s come into contact with thus far. 

Luckily for them both, the Princess does, indeed, throw a ball in Harry’s honor in the next few days, set for when she arrives back from her trip overseas. 

Harry dresses herself carefully that day, washing thoroughly, styling her hair precariously on top of her head, taking care to make sure her pearls are gleaming in the candlelight. She passes by all the exquisite dresses chosen for her by the dressmaker and wears the pink gown gifted to her by her sisters. It flows out at the waist, giving the illusion of her tail; there will be no mistaking who she is, not tonight. 

The rest of the ladies-in-waiting gather around her and they all go down to the ballroom, every hall they pass filled with beautiful things and even more beautiful people. 

The Princess waits for them at her throne, and when they enter she stands. She is beautiful. Her dress shimmers with faux-scales, no doubt an homage to Harry tonight, the reason for their gathering. Harry is entranced with her. Her hair is cut short, short as a human man’s, and she speaks with the power of a king. 

She thanks Harry for joining her court and encourages the ball to go on. There is much food and dancing to be had and Harry joins in with glee, dancing around in her bare feet gracelessly. Quite a few people ask for her hand to dance with, some drunk, some not, some high royalty, some townsfolk, some knights and warriors, and fishermen who send her sisters’ good wishes for her along with them. 

The Princess does not come to greet her until the end of the night, when the candles are burning low and the guests are few and far between. Those that remain are steadily drooping in their exhaustion or stupor, perhaps both. 

“I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. Duties are more important than manners, apparently.” The Princess says, laughing and rolling her eyes. 

“Oh, I don’t mind at all. This night has been lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Harry giggles, then, tripping over her feet a bit. “Obviously.” 

The Princess smiles, indulgent. 

“Obviously.”

Then she extends her hand, and they enjoy the final dance of the night with each other. They twirl and laugh, stumbling a bit in the growing light of sunrise. They dance right out into the garden and Harry sees a flower that’s new to her climbing up the side of a gazebo. She drops the Princess’ hands and rushes to see it closer. 

She plucks a blossom to hold, then puts it in her hair; she picks another and gives it to the Princess. 

“For you,” she says, and the Princess blushes. Harry picks another to put behind the Princess’ ear. “Perfect.”

“My name is Louis.” The Princess says, apropos of nothing. “Please call me Louis.”

Harry nods, already turning back to the flowers. They’re enchanting, glistening with dew under the day’s new sun. 

Harry then sees the field beyond the gazebo, endless grass in the center of a long, brick path. She goes out there, her dress dragging along the ground beneath her, leaving a path in her wake for Louis to follow. She lies down in the grass, Louis spreading out beside her. 

It’s a magical morning. 

The next few weeks are much the same. She and Louis take long walks around the palace, sometimes with the rest of the ladies-in-waiting, but most often by themselves. Louis goes out of her way to buy Harry any fanciful thing her heart desires, fabrics from all around the world, extravagant foods and jewels, birds as far as the eye can see. The palace garden becomes almost wild as Louis asks the gardener to plant every variety he can think of, just to show Harry what it looks like. 

There’s a day in the peak of summer when Louis finally asks about her prize. 

“I’m assuming it’s the necklace?” Louis asks, eyeing it on Harry’s neck. 

“It is.” Harry stops in her tracks. “But you can’t tell a soul. If anyone but my soulmate takes it off, I’ll be cursed to live as a fish forever.” 

“And what happens if your soulmate takes it off?”

Harry pauses in her steps, thinking. “I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who has found theirs.” 

Louis nods and Harry notices her staring at the necklace. 

Harry has been at the palace for a few months when the subject gets brought up again. They’re walking in the greenhouse, foreign birds flying around in the warm air, drinking nectar and eating fruits galore. 

“What happens if...someone touches your prize?”

“Nothing.” 

Louis’ delicate hands reach out. Harry loves her hands, the way they feel so warm whenever her own brush against them. Her hands remind Harry of daisies. 

Louis’ fingers touch the pearl at the base of her throat. 

“It’s cold,” She murmurs. “I didn’t….”

Louis doesn’t finish her sentence. Harry kisses her. Their kisses are like the pushing of the waves against the moon; there’s a heavy gravity, there, an inevitability, an eternity in their touch. Louis twists one hand in Harry’s hair and another in her prize, and -- Harry’s gotten used to her legs. She has, but she hasn’t gotten used to Louis’ kisses, and she trips. 

She trips, and her prize is ripped from her neck. Harry watches in horror as the necklace falls to the floor. Like any well made pearl necklace, each pearl is protected by a knot, so only one pearl scatters across the lush floor, rolling to a quick stop at Louis’ feet, like it’s own sweet gift. 

The necklace lays between them, each pearl glowing with magic and song. 

Harry feels --

Harry feels. Harry  _ feels _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you SO MUCH to the mods for running this fest!!!


End file.
